


Into My Bloodstream

by pandoras_chaos



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandoras_chaos/pseuds/pandoras_chaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d only been sleeping together for a little over a week and John was still finding himself unable to believe that he was allowed this; that he could touch Sherlock and kiss him and press against him in the secret hours of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into My Bloodstream

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Colby Keller and Anthony Romero for the inspiration for this piece of filth. Somehow, I doubt either of them would mind if they knew…
> 
> This is pure, shameless, unmitigated porn for porn's sake. There is zero redeeming value whatsoever and literally no plot to speak of. I just needed a bit of smut in my life. I regret nothing. 
> 
> Title borrowed from Stateless.

**Into My Bloodstream**

 

John gasped as his back hit the wall, Sherlock’s wiry body pinning him to the plaster even as his long fingers skimmed down his back, cupping John’s arse and pulling him forward to grind his hard cock into John’s groin. Sherlock’s lips were hot and insistent, his tongue demanding as he licked his way into John’s mouth. John groaned and let himself sink forward, pulled into the chaotic maelstrom that was Sherlock’s heady desire. It was intense and treacherous, and John felt his entire body sizzle with thick arousal; desperation and desire making his vision blur around the edges.

Sherlock growled into his throat, nipping harshly at John’s skin and causing John’s knees to buckle where he stood. He wove his fingers through dark curls and yanked, a feral grin stretching across his lips as Sherlock’s grunt of surprise turned into a groan at the unexpected pleasure-pain. Sherlock’s eyes blinked open on a ragged breath and he pinned John with a look of clear possession and need, and John couldn’t _breathe_.

“Christ, Sherlock,” John groaned, blunt fingers scrambling across slim shoulders and tugging uselessly at the fine silk of Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock just grinned; fierce and primal and John felt his desire tip dangerously into blatant need. Sherlock leaned in again, biting a kiss into John’s mouth and trailing his long fingers over the thick bulge at the front of John’s denims.

“I want this in my mouth,” Sherlock rumbled against his tongue, squeezing the hard length of John’s cock and making John whimper in surrender.

“Yes,” John hissed, mustering all his strength and pushing Sherlock away just far enough to scramble at his zip, pulling his jeans and pants down in one inelegant tug and nearly stumbling when his ankles got caught in the pile of fabric. Sherlock chuckled darkly and caught him before he could fall, pushing his hips back into the wall and sliding gracefully to his knees.

John’s breath caught in his chest at the action and he gazed down at Sherlock’s upturned face; hungry and wanting and so utterly, gorgeously _his_.

The first brush of Sherlock’s tongue across the head of John’s cock was like an electric current; sparks of pleasure danced all along his nerves and John felt as though he might ignite where he stood. He knew instantly he couldn’t let this happen here in the hall, where anyone could walk in on them and see Sherlock taking him apart piece by glorious piece. The thought held some appeal, but tonight it was just about the two of them, and John was not willing to share.

He buried his fingers in Sherlock’s curls once more and tugged his head back, vaguely registering the look of frustrated disappointment and hungry _want_ on Sherlock’s face before he pulled himself back towards sanity.

“Sh-Sherlock,” he stuttered, distracted by the way Sherlock’s fingers wrapped tightly around his thighs and dug in, his mouth hovering just over John’s exposed glans; hot, humid breath caressing the sensitive skin there and making John shiver where he stood.

“If you intend to move me, John,” Sherlock murmured, his lips brushing across John’s slit with every enunciated consonant, “I’d suggest you do so now.”

John took a deep breath, mustered all of his remaining strength, and pushed Sherlock firmly back by the shoulder. John wrenched his shirt up over his head, tossing it into the sitting room and aiming vaguely for his chair. He toed off his shoes and socks, and left his jeans in the hall, managing to kick off his pants with an absurd shake of his leg, uncaring as they slid beneath the sofa and would no doubt cause quite the scandal when Mrs Hudson found them during her next ‘not-your-housekeeper’ cleaning spree.

Sherlock rose gracefully to his feet and began plucking at his own clothing, managing to make the whole affair look like the world’s most effective striptease, and John felt his mouth water as each long expanse of Sherlock’s pale, warm skin was revealed. They’d only been sleeping together for a little over a week and John was still finding himself unable to believe that he was allowed this; that he could touch Sherlock and kiss him and press against him in the secret hours of the night. Sherlock was a shockingly sensual lover, and John was not disappointed in the least to find out he wasn’t actually Sherlock’s first. The idea that he’d been a virgin had been an admittedly appealing one, but John wasn’t naive enough to believe that someone this gorgeous could have escaped thirty-six years of celibacy just based on a largely unappealing personality. It was a bit of a comfort actually, to think that Sherlock had base urges like the rest of the population; it was one more way John found Sherlock’s hidden humanity, and he revelled in it.

Sherlock was backing slowly across the sitting room, managing to look graceful even as he stumbled a little over the random detritus that covered the cluttered space. He held John’s gaze as he turned, shimmying out of his trousers with a little sway that made John’s heart pound in a way that should probably be embarrassing. Sherlock smirked over his shoulder and sashayed through the bedroom door, his black boxer briefs sliding down his long legs as he went. The sight was brazenly sexual: Sherlock’s surprisingly plush arse peeking out just beneath the tails of his dark blue shirt, and John’s cock gave a jerk of want.

Sherlock was fully naked by the time John made it into the room, lounging backwards against the expensive sheets and stroking his erection in slow, measured pulls that had John’s mouth watering. _God_ , he loved that cock. It was long and thicker than John would have thought, curving ever so slightly to the right and flushed pink with blood. John detoured to the bedside table and pulled out the half-empty bottle of lubricant, tossing it onto the bed before climbing up over Sherlock’s prone form; straddling his hips and letting out a breathless moan as their pricks came together in a stuttered, sweaty glide.

“John,” Sherlock groaned, gripping John’s hips and rocking up into the space just below his bollocks. It was tight and hot and John felt his arse clench at the implication, knowing exactly what he wanted, but unwilling to rush.

“Willing to finish what you started?” John asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. He loved this part; the tease of the power play, although it was absolutely obvious that Sherlock enjoyed holding him down and making him take it. John had been pleasantly surprised to find that their passions were equally matched: the battle for dominance always present with no sure outcome as to who would end up on top. It was what John loved about fucking men and Sherlock was no exception.

John rocked his hips once more before crawling up the bed, pushing Sherlock’s arms out from his torso with his knees and sitting astride Sherlock’s slim chest. He could feel every one of Sherlock’s quick inhales as it pushed his sternum against John’s perineum and the feeling alone was nearly distracting enough to derail his plans. It was the slight tilt to Sherlock’s lips, however, that had John leaning forward to taste that mouth: hot and sharp and wicked as he scraped his teeth along John’s bottom lip and pulled.

Sherlock was gorgeous like this, all burning heat and laser focus, pouring all of his observational skills into giving John exactly what he needed. John felt something warm and dangerous blossoming just behind his ribs, but he pushed it away for now. This was about sex and this was about Sherlock, and John intended to use every bit of his prowess to melt Sherlock’s incredible mind into putty.

John ran his thumb over the prominent ridge of Sherlock’s sharp cheekbone, watching with intensity as Sherlock sighed into the touch, arching his neck and twisting around until he caught John’s thumb between his lips and sucked. John felt it all the way down his spine; a sharp frisson of want that had his thighs trembling where he perched across Sherlock’s abdomen. Sherlock’s large hands spanned the width of John’s hips, long fingers digging in and leaving ten perfect bruises that John would cherish for days to come. John rocked his hips a little and smiled as Sherlock moaned around his thumb, flicking his tongue over the tip and gazing up at John with dark, fathomless eyes.

John pulled his fingers away, shuffling forward and bracing his forearm against the headboard, his left hand guiding the aching length of is neglected cock towards Sherlock’s sinful, open mouth. He pushed forward a little more and bypassed Sherlock’s tongue, instead guiding his bollocks towards those lips and praying Sherlock wouldn’t balk at the silent request. Sherlock just smirked and opened his mouth wider, sucking one of John’s testicles into his mouth with a filthy, slick noise, his dark eyelashes fluttering closed as he moaned around his mouthful with apparent enjoyment. John sighed loudly and rolled his hips, feeling the gentle scrape of teeth across his scrotum as Sherlock switched; one ball falling from his lips with an almost comical pop before he scooped the other forth with his tongue and sucked it into the hot cavity of his mouth.

John could feel every slick movement of Sherlock’s tongue as he rolled it across the tight skin of John’s scrotum, the pressure nearly overwhelming as he gently eased himself back a little. Sherlock’s lips were dark red and gleaming with saliva, and the sight was nearly enough to send John over the edge, but then Sherlock’s tongue snaked out to taste the base of his erection and John fell forward with a drawn out groan of pleasure. He held his cock steady at the head and dragged the thick length of his shaft across the wet expanse of Sherlock’s offered tongue, shuddering at the filthy slide of it as Sherlock groaned and arched his hips beneath John’s arse.

John cupped his palm around Sherlock’s jaw and tilted his face down a little, guiding the head of his cock towards Sherlock’s lips with a look of undisguised hunger. He paused just out of reach, enjoying the anticipation; the tension between them so thick the very air seemed to vibrate against his overly heated skin.

He slid his thumb across Sherlock’s bitten lips, pushing against his bottom teeth until his mouth fell open absurdly wide, the yearning in his expression so hungry John could feel it all the way down to his toes. John shuffled forward a little more and dipped his prick inside, feeling the urgent slide of Sherlock’s tongue as it swept across his frenulum, gathering pre-come and sweat and swallowing it away with a filthy moan of appreciation.

Sherlock’s eyes locked on his and he leaned forward the remaining inch, closing his ridiculously full lips around the head of John’s cock and sucking hard. John’s head fell back with a groan and he rocked his hips involuntarily, teasing his glans across the ridge of Sherlock’s palette and feeling the resistance as he hit the back of Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock choked a little and pulled back a fraction, gasping wetly before plunging his mouth down again, breathing in harshly through his nose and pushing forward just a little more until his face was buried in the thick thatch of blond curls at the base of John’s prick.

It felt incredible: hot and tight, the involuntary hitches in Sherlock’s breath as his body clamped down into suffocation pulling John’s orgasm dangerously close. John let him suck for a little while longer, enjoying the feeling of intense pleasure as Sherlock moaned around his cock, the vibrations chasing all the way down to the base of his spine. He pulled back a little, nudging Sherlock down the bed with unsteady hands until he could lean all the way forward, pulling Sherlock’s arms over his head and bracing himself across his upturned wrists. Carefully, John guided his cock back into Sherlock’s waiting mouth, glorying in the position as he rolled his hips experimentally, fucking Sherlock’s face in tight little circles that had both of them groaning at the intensity of it.

It was too much and not enough, and John felt himself teetering on the very edge of morality, but Sherlock moaned again and he reared back, afraid for a moment that he was about to come. Sherlock blinked up at him through a haze of lust, his mouth a perfect pink oh as he arched his neck at an awkward angle, chasing John’s cock as best he could from his prone position. Sherlock’s face was soaked in saliva, his entire mouth a mess of wet suction and burning heat and John couldn’t help but pull him forward, cradling that gorgeous brain between his palms as he guided Sherlock’s mouth over his prick again and again. The position would be uncomfortable to hold for long, and John watched carefully for any signs of discomfort from the man before him, but the look Sherlock shot towards him was primal and greedy. John knew could come like this, with his cock buried so deeply in Sherlock’s throat he could see each thrust stretching his pale, elegant neck, but he had other plans for tonight.

He pulled Sherlock off with an obscenely slick noise, unable to stop himself from rubbing at the wet mix of saliva and pre-come that dripped slightly down Sherlock’s chin. It was dirty and primitive, but John felt a swell of absurd pride as though he was somehow marking Sherlock as his.

“My turn,” Sherlock purred and moved so quickly, John could barely blink. He found himself suddenly flat on his back in the middle of the bed, Sherlock looming over him with a satisfied smirk full of dark promise. It sent a shiver of lust straight to John’s balls and he groaned as Sherlock lowered himself down deliberately, aligning their bodies perfectly before giving one slow, full-body undulation.

John’s head fell back to the mattress with a muffled thud, the feeling of Sherlock moving between his legs something he’d still not gotten used to. They weren’t always like this; sometimes it was John bending Sherlock over the nearest piece of furniture and spreading him wide, learning the taste and texture of his skin across John’s tongue as he pulled erotic sounds and muttered curses from those gorgeous lips. But if he was honest, John liked this best: Sherlock taking command, all rippling pulses of heat and power-- never forcing, but definitely forceful.

Sherlock devoured his mouth, tongue curling sinuously around John’s and causing the doctor to whimper as a flood of desire raced through his blood. Sherlock was relentless; pushing and shoving John until he had one leg up over Sherlock’s hip, dexterous, slim fingers tracing a trail of fire down the crack of John’s arse. John gasped as Sherlock’s index ran directly over the puckered skin of his hole, pushing just enough to meet resistance before easing back and rubbing at his perineum instead.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” John groaned, rocking his hips into the movement and catching Sherlock’s mouth in a heated kiss that was more a smear of teeth than anything resembling coordination. Sherlock grinned against John’s tongue and reached around blindly for the lube, catching the bottle as it rolled along the topography of the mattress. He coated his fingers quickly and returned them to where John was hot and tight, undulating against the tide of relentless need as his hips rocked of their own volition.

John arched into Sherlock’s body, desperate for some friction, but unable to find it in the tangle of long limbs and pale skin. Sherlock licked a long line of fire up his neck and bit none-too-gently at John’s carotid artery, earning another gasp and a moan as John’s hips stuttered a helpless tattoo against the sheets. Sherlock’s slick fingers rubbed tantalizingly across John’s balls, coating the wrinkled skin in a layer of silk and John thought he might actually die like this: suspended on Sherlock’s easy eroticism and desperate to come.

Sherlock captured John’s mouth again, his tongue sliding along John’s in a sensuous dance of dominance as he eased one long finger into John’s body in one exquisite, continuous push. John’s head fell back with a long groan, his entire body pulsing around the intrusion; every breath feeling deliciously constricted as Sherlock pinned him with his own body weight. It felt dangerously like falling, but John shoved the thought firmly away. He didn’t want to be distracted by complicated emotion right now. All he wanted was this man inside him as quickly as he could feasibly manage.

“God, _please_ ,” John panted, rolling his hips as best he could against the relentless pressure of Sherlock on top of him. Sherlock growled again and John felt the biting stretch of two fingers; the momentary flare of pain outstripped widely by the aching need to be filled. John’s nails clawed deep scratches across Sherlock’s shoulder blades as he strove to ground himself, his head already light and dizzy with the unending, pulsing sensation of imminent bliss.

John shuddered as every single nerve in his body seemed to be honed in on where Sherlock’s lithe fingers were teasing him open, brushing along his soft tissue and skating the very edge of his prostate. John’s back bowed forward, the intense desire to fuck himself on those beautiful fingers nearly too much, but Sherlock just grinned wickedly and pressed his own hips down further, pinning John to the mattress with enough force to whisper the promise of bruises across John’s skin.

“ _Mine_ ,” Sherlock growled into his ear, his voice so low it was nearly subsonic. John shuddered and arched, Sherlock’s slim fingers not nearly enough as he fought to impale himself further. He managed to wrestle one leg free and threw it over Sherlock’s shoulder, wincing a little as his thighs strained to accommodate the stretch. He was going to feel this for days, but the thought didn’t deter him in the slightest.

He could feel the thick ridge of Sherlock’s cock, hot and hard and demanding against the delicate skin of his inner thigh. Sherlock rocked forward, dragging the dewy tip of his exposed glans against John’s skin and leaving smears of pearly pre-come in its wake. It felt coarse and primal; a clear stamp of possession rubbed into John’s very skin, and he felt the intoxicating rush of endorphins flood through his veins at the thought.

Sherlock fumbled for the lube again, extracting his fingers in a slow, dirty slide until he could spread more of the slick substance across John’s anus, pushing the gel in and around until the wet squelch was barely audible over John’s moans. He felt shattered and shaken, his entire body seeming to pulse in time with his racing heartbeat and he was fairly certain that if Sherlock didn’t fuck him right now, he might actually just explode from the tension.

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock breathed, his voice hoarse and raw, “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes,” John hissed, urgency so sharp he could taste the metallic tang of it on the back of his tongue.

Sherlock pulled back a fraction, waiting for John to blink his eyes open heavily before leaning forward and pressing his mouth to John’s in a kiss that tasted like promise and sex. It was heady and addictive and John twined his arms around Sherlock’s neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss with a moan that sounded like a plea. Sherlock hummed against his tongue, and John could feel the way Sherlock’s muscles were trembling, a fine tremor skating through his skin and leaving him panting with the effort of holding back.

Sherlock slid his fingers back, the thick drag of them twisting John’s insides into compliance. John’s hole felt puffy and swollen, muscles greedy and wanting as they closed around nothing. He felt open and exposed; the perfect picture of debauched innocence as Sherlock extracted himself to locate a condom.

John’s nerves were on fire and he writhed against the sheets as Sherlock stuck the edge of the foil packet between his teeth and wrenched it open with a jerk. Sherlock’s cock was large and intimidating, foreskin pulled back entirely as he stroked himself firmly with his slick hand. John’s breath caught at the sight and his hands reached forward without his permission, running blunt fingers across the hot skin and grinning as it twitched in his hand.

“Fuck me,” John rasped, squeezing lightly at the base of Sherlock’s cock and holding it steady as Sherlock slipped the thin layer of latex over the bulbous head, pulling the rest down in tight little jerks that were more a tease than a means of release.

“Roll over,” Sherlock muttered, pressing a small kiss to the corner of John's lips and John groaned, his body obeying without a thought to the thick command in Sherlock’s tone. He propped himself on his knees and elbows, trying not to think about the picture he must present: wet and open and just waiting to be filled. He felt the bed shift and then Sherlock’s blazing warmth along his back; not touching yet, but simply radiating heat and desire.

John’s cock hung heavily between his legs, engorged flesh twitching in time with his pulse as he tried to catch his breath. Sex with Sherlock was always something new, but John felt like he was drowning in sensation; his entire body feeling flushed and overheated as he waited to be penetrated again. He arched his back, groaning at the delicious stretch of muscles that hadn’t gotten this much of a workout in ages. He felt languorous and needy, the sharp edge of urgency fading a little as Sherlock brushed his palms reverently over the curves of John’s arse.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about exactly this just today?” Sherlock purred in his ear, spreading John’s cheeks apart and rubbing his thumb over his stretched, slick hole. John shuddered at the implication, the feeling of Sherlock’s cock brushing the back of his thigh enough to produce a high-pitched, keening whine.

“ _Christ_ , Sherlock. Fuck me,” John whimpered, so far beyond dignity it was laughable. Sherlock’s lips brushed the base of his spine, sweeping up each vertebra with sucking kisses that were sure to bruise. John circled his hips in invitation, grinning to himself when Sherlock groaned loudly and the bed creaked again.

John could taste the anticipation; the air so thick between them it was stifling. Sherlock’s fingertips brushed down over John’s coccyx, dipping once more into the heat of John’s body before shifting back and lining himself up. The tip of his cock brushed gently across John’s anus and the entire world seemed to shrink down to one blinding point of brilliant sensation. Slowly, Sherlock eased forward, burying himself into John in one long slide of glorious friction and pressure.

“Ohhhhh fuck,” John groaned, reaching forward to brace himself against the headboard, his entire body seeming to contract with every sinful roll of Sherlock’s hips. John could feel himself opening, muscles loosening and tensing as the drag of Sherlock’s cock scraped intimately along the rim of his hole. It was slow and deliberate, Sherlock carefully inching forward only to pull back with glacial ease.  John let him set the pace for a while before he rocked his hips back sharply, smiling around a groan as Sherlock hissed in a breath through his teeth; the hard smacking sound of skin on skin loud in the otherwise still room.

“How do you want it, John?” Sherlock breathed, fanning his fingers along John’s iliac crest and tilting his hips further to push back in again, faster now, but still agonizingly slow.

“As hard as you can go,” John grit out, deliberately clenching down as Sherlock’s cock dragged out of him again. He felt Sherlock’s prick twitch at the words and grinned lazily into the mattress.

“That sounds like challenge,” Sherlock rumbled, his usual arrogance clearly evident in his tone.

“Less talking,” John grunted, bracing himself on his elbows and shoving back hard, knowing he was pushing it, but unwilling to back down. If Sherlock wanted to provoke a challenge, John was happy to oblige.

He felt Sherlock lean forward, bracing his own hands on either side of John’s waist before slamming forward with savage force, the momentum enough to knock the bed into the wall with a dull thud. John gasped and moaned loudly, but Sherlock didn’t give him time to react, pulling back with a firm tug before thrusting forward again. He set a brutal pace, fucking into John in long, full strides that made stars pop across John’s vision. _This_ was exactly what John hadn’t even known he’d wanted, and he rolled his hips back, meeting Sherlock’s thrusts with increasing roughness.

It was hard and fast, Sherlock’s grunts of exertion only working to fuel John’s passion higher, and John could feel his control slipping precariously into oversensitivity. His skin felt tight, his muscles trembling with the effort as he braced himself against Sherlock’s thorough pounding. John arched backwards into the next thrust and Sherlock’s cock grazed roughly against his prostate, and the whole world seemed to shower into a blaze of sparks across John’s eyelids. John couldn’t help his loud cry of pleasure, quickly muffled into the bedding lest he wake Mrs Hudson, but Sherlock’s fingers wove into the short strands of hair at the back of his skull and pulled his face up.

“I want to hear you, John,” he panted, rolling his hips with an upward snap to push against that magical bundle of nerves inside John’s body. John was quaking against the mattress now; full-body shudders wracking his smaller frame as he sobbed ecstasy into the room. It was almost unbearably loud, but John couldn’t be bothered; the sound drown out by the steady ringing in his ears as his pulse sped up to dangerous proportions.

They were well into proper dirty fucking territory, and John could feel the last restraints on his control vanishing just as Sherlock reared back and slapped him once-- hard --across the arse. The shock of the blow made them both pause, the stunned silence nearly deafening as they both registered the violent, involuntary move. But then the smarting skin infused with heat and John let out a wail of greed and lust, his entire body seeming to pulse from the new red mark outwards. Sherlock huffed out a parody of a surprised laugh before slamming his hips forward with enough force to push John several inches up the bed. The slight sting on his knees from the sheets added to the already rough edge of pleasure-pain and John found himself pushing back into every vicious thrust, revelling in the burn of the stretch, of the dangerous mixture on the knife-edge of pain.

Sherlock gripped him by the shoulder, using John’s own body as leverage to pound into him faster and deeper, causing all the muscles in John’s arse and lower back to spasm and clench with each heaving, grinding thrust. He could feel the tension building; the familiar, beautiful ache of orgasm beginning to spiral through his limbs, heat licking up the backs of his thighs as Sherlock pushed him to the limits of his sanity. Sherlock’s long fingers caressed up the back of his neck, the touch covetous and gentle amid the pounding, driving rhythm of his hips and John felt an absurd sob catch at the back of his throat; his emotions too flayed open to do more than shudder at the blissful torture of Sherlock’s body moving within his.

“Christ, John,” Sherlock ground out between harsh breaths, “You’re so beautiful like this: stretched around my cock and just begging to be fucked.”

“Nngh,” John gasped, articulation shot to hell as he tried to remember how to breathe around the stuttering, clamoring pressure building in his lungs. He could feel it starting: his fingers tingling with sensation as every single muscle seemed to clamp down in preparation.

Sherlock sucked in a breath behind him and John could actually feel his cock thicken, stretching the already abused walls of John’s anus even more and causing both of them to moan.

“God, John. I can’t--” Sherlock rasped, digging his fingers into John’s hipbones and yanking him physically backwards, ramming himself into John in quick, tight strokes that meant he was close to coming. John arched his back further and gave into the bliss; the syrupy dizziness of lust-filled pleasure rushing through his blood and making his bones rattle with the strain.

Sherlock pushed hard into him, his back bowing and his hands clenching as his orgasm hit: roaring out his pleasure in the shape of John’s name. John could feel every pulsing wave as it ran through Sherlock’s cock, wishing they were both safe enough to discard condoms entirely. He wanted to feel the slick sensation of Sherlock’s seed filling him up and claiming him entirely; proof indeed that Sherlock Holmes was _his_.

John was so close he could taste it; sweet and heavy like sugar on the back of his tongue. Sherlock was still moving, milking his orgasm out in tight circles as his cock emptied into the thin layer of latex. John groaned in frustration and pushed his arse back, knowing he was being selfish, but desperate to come. He was teetering on the very edge-- in need of just one more push and he’d be done. Sherlock huffed out a breathless bark of incredulous laughter and snapped his hips forward once more, the tip of his still-stiff prick slamming directly into John’s prostate and it was finally enough.

John felt himself shatter, his vision greying as all the blood in his body seemed to rush to his cock; heavy, slippery jets of semen arcing across the sheets as he came, untouched, for the first time in his life. It felt like dying, like drowning in a sea of pleasure as his penis jerked hard, pumping the last of his orgasm out in juddering spurts of white. His balls ached and he felt dizzy, his limbs losing all coordination as he fell face-first into the bed.

“Did you just--?” Sherlock sounded about as wrecked as John felt and he nodded feebly into the mattress, feeling the slight scrape of the cotton against his overheated face.

“ _Fuck_ , John,” Sherlock groaned, clearly trying not to move, but unable to help the way his hips twitched as John’s body spasmed around him, wringing out the last of the aftershocks and tightening involuntarily around Sherlock’s spent cock.

“Jesus,” John groaned, too tired to move even though he was laying directly in the wet spot. Sherlock’s arms were shaking on either side of him, trembling with the effort of holding himself up. John smirked into the mattress and squeezed his exhausted muscles again, causing Sherlock to jump behind him with a yelp.

Slowly, Sherlock pulled back, extracting himself gently with a wet squelch that made them both hiss before flopping gracelessly down onto the mattress. John felt the seductive call of bone-deep lethargy pulling at the edges of his consciousness, but he rallied his remaining strength and rolled over to taste Sherlock’s contented smile.

“That was...” John started, pretending to think about it for a minute before nodding with a lazy grin. “Yeah. That was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“‘Probably’?” Sherlock drawled with a quirk of his eyebrow. He ran one heavy hand down the length of John’s side, coming to rest possessively over the fingerprint bruises already beginning to purple on his hip. “Oh, John. I think we can do better than that.”

John’s mouth stretched into a mischievous grin and he leaned forward to capture Sherlock’s lips in a sated kiss, sighing against his tongue at the impossible surge of arousal that flared briefly through his blood. Sherlock snickered against his mouth and pulled him closer, wrapping his body around John’s in an overtly territorial grasp that had John giggling into his sweat-damp throat.

“Insatiable,” Sherlock purred into John’s ear before giving the lobe a quick nip of teeth. John shivered and he felt his cock give a weak twitch of effort, but he rolled them both over and draped himself across Sherlock’s chest instead, satisfied and drowsy and ready for sleep.

“Tomorrow,” John yawned, smiling into warm skin as Sherlock’s fingers buried themselves in his hair and began rubbing in firm circles that had him melting immediately.

“Tomorrow,” Sherlock agreed, pressing a tender kiss onto John’s forehead and humming in contentment. John’s last thought before sleep claimed him was that he could definitely get used to this.

  


 

_I think I might have inhaled you_   
_I can feel you behind my eyes_   
_You’ve gotten into my bloodstream_   
_I can feel you flowing in me_   
_~Stateless, Bloodstream_


End file.
